


Through Mycroft’s Eyes

by NikaAnuk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mycroft is not a stupid guy, Post Reichenbach, some sort of angst (as usual)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 15:35:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaAnuk/pseuds/NikaAnuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We're after Reichenbach, hearts are broken and people are sad and Mycroft Holmes can't stop thinking about his brother.</p>
<p>Let's call it an outline, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Mycroft’s Eyes

From the very beginning Mycoft knew something was going on. John Watson was an unusual Sherlock's choice, neither smart enough for Mycroft's brother nor rich. Totally different descent and work. But maybe Dr Watson's work was the only hint for understanding Sherlock's choice. Both – doctor and soldier – were useful in the war Sherlock was waging in London. So maybe this time his brother chose wisely. Or at least Mycroft Holmes wished to believe in it, especially when he saw John Watson for the first time.   
There was something... calming in John, Sherlock was so focused on this strange man that he almost forgot to be rude. That was something new. Mycroft had known his brother for his whole life – even if Sherlock would swear that there were times when Mycroft was not by his side which was false of course – and he saw Sherlock like this only twice before: at uni when Victor Trevor was around and even earlier when he himself had had similar influence on his brother, long before they started to fight for their mother's attention after their father's death.   
And now, in the middle of City there was something like Shakespeare's tragedy playing, right in the London streets. And Mycroft was watching of course, as always, worried and ready to act.   
Spending his days working for Government he learnt how to watch private things in the corner of his eye but this time the incidents that happened drew more of his attention then he would like to admit. Dr Watson and Sherlock were running through the whole city chasing criminals, solving cases and helping people. And even if it was all about Sherlock – his chance to be brilliant, genius, to prove his point – Mycroft could see that this time it was different, this time it was also about John: Sherlock needed him to see, to praised, to be. And suddenly his whole world orbited around this ex army doctor who had experienced a miracle and could walk again.   
But they were watched by other eyes too. And Mycroft was fully aware of that fact but he had to catch this person who was a threat to his brother and his friend (his „only friend”) and Mycroft wanted to help them without disturbing them – whatever was going on. So he let this third person watch them, follow them and play with Sherlock, and he still hoped he had enough power to help them. But in the end he failed.   
Watching his brother so happy, so alive again was pure pleasure. There were days in the past he regreted having a brother but Sherlock's drug addiction taught Mycroft to value his sibling's life. And now he wanted him to be safe. But that case – The Case of Sherlock Holmes – proved to Mycroft that he was not God nor genius, even his talent did not help him to save his brother. Not even John Watson.   
Sitting in his office and watching John Watson mourning made him feel sick. This was not like it supposed to be. He still felt bitter taste of failure on his tongue and he still wanted only to bury himself along with his brother. Such a relief it would be! But instead of this act of mercy he worked hard trying to figured out what had happened. And slowly he got all the information, about Moriarty, about John and Moran, about Hooper and himself. And then he felt his lost even more.   
With a glass in his hand Mycroft sat down in the Diogenes Club enjoying the stillness of the empty place. There was no one in here, the last guest had left almost an hour earlier and now it was only him and his black thoughts. Feeling tired and very, very guilty he shut his eyes, the sound of Sherlock's last words was still haunting him. “It's my note... That people do, don't they? Leave a note”. And suddenly there was no longer pain and loneliness. 'The note' but what for? Sherlock never cared about stuff like that, so why now? Why in front of John? To make him suffer more? No, not John. John loved Sherlock and Sherlock loved John in some way. So why? To leave a note. To leave a proof. To make him believe...  
Mycroft had to admit that he admired Sherlock's way of thinking. He was truly in love with his brain and this was the only reason he did not feel offended when Sherlock made a fool of him. Not this time at least  
The glass was abandoned on the table and Mycroft hurried to the door, calling for his car. There was something he had missed in this whole puzzle but now Mycroft Holmes was back on his track.


End file.
